The Bubble Box

By Ariel Shehter, Staff Writer

When it’s dark and it’s late and it’s lasting

And the space between you and the oven clock

Is enough to nuzzle into the corner

When on some rooftop

A hand over the edge is

Dipping into the evening light

Still hissing and smokey from

A firework slid out of your spine

When you laughed

You didn’t let it sink


When the hand is curious

Around it 

And slow

And your steps are so powerful

You could walk them back

Your world bouncing

In a neon bubble

With all the others

In the bubble box

Correction: There was a misprint of “The Bubble Box” in Issue 1, Volume 84 of the Blueprint. This is the full version of the poem.

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